


Our Roots Will Always Be Tangled

by lucitae



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/lucitae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyunggu explores what Hyojong being a werewolf means for them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vjpaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjpaper/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Sei! May you have an exciting 21st. I'm sorry I couldn't write yadong for you. As always, this is our ideas (and sometimes words) fused together. Without you half of my worlds would lose meaning and most of my characters would lose direction.
> 
> A few things to look out for: this is unbeta'd, the characterizations are iffy at best, I tampered with the ages so that they are now only three months apart instead of 2.5 ish years, and in this universe imprinting isn't something done spontaneously with a newborn child or some Shakespearean love at first sight. Hopefully I fleshed it out enough but if not, read end notes for further clarification.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.”  
> ― Ally Condie, Matched
> 
> Except there is no growing apart.

The Kim house has always been comfortable. But then again it could be from the years of frequent visits, causing it to feel more like a second home. Hyunggu tucks his feet under him and repositions himself on the couch, waiting for the tell-tale signs of Hyojong's return.

And there they are: the thuds of shoes falling to the floor near the doorway and the shuffle of feet in slippers as the boy collapses onto the couch Hyunggu is seated on.

"Hard day?" Hyunggu asks, barely looking up from the novel he's reading. Hyojong nods, face dangerously close to Hyunggu's as he tries to create space for himself, and settles for resting his cheek on Hyunggu's shoulder while trying to catch a glimpse at what he's reading.

"I asked boss about his mate and he wasn't happy about it."

"The omega mate who is his second in command? Didn't you say they imprinted on each other? Well in human understandable terms" Hyunggu begins quoting to the best of his knowledge: "'walked into love with both eyes open like a marriage except it is eternal and you reserve parts of your soul for each other.' Or something along those lines." Hyunggu earns another nod from Hyojong.

"Which is why," Hyojong gestures, slightly aggravated, "I asked and it almost ended in a brawl."

"Why did you want to know?" Hyunggu asks, looking impassive but Hyojong knows better.

Hyojong shrugs. "People who are willing to imprint are few and far in between in this day and age." Too much commitment, too much uncertainty. Hyojong doesn't mention the part where he once tried to imprint on Hyunggu but it didn't work. And maybe, just maybe, his pack leader could have helped if he was willing to talk about it.

"Oh," Hyunggu sounds and they leave it at that.


	2. Some Kind of En

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of flashbacks of how Hyunggu and Hyojong grow together ( and apart ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I no longer know how to write slow burn anymore so I apologize for this mess.
> 
> Notes for clarification about this verse:
> 
>   * Like most werewolf verses there are alphas, betas, and omegas
>   * Alphas have the capability of keeping their human forms during the full moon because they retain a sense of self
>   * It is mostly for the purpose of keeping their pack in line during the full moon so they don't do things they regret (cold-blooded murder for example)
>   * Alphas without a pack equate to wolves without direction. Hence, even if they can retain a sense of self, they have no motivation to keep their human forms
>   * Other tidbits include: there are omegas that exist with the strength comparable to that of betas but due to their submissive nature are labelled as omegas
> 


Hyunggu meets Hyojong at a park: a measly child crouched in the sand pit. Hyunggu joins him out of pity, deciding to take the boy under his wing. Little did he know that Hyojong was actually three months older and two classrooms down the hall. Little did he know that Hyojong only lived a block or two away and that ever since that fated day, he would spend half of his time at Hyojong's place.

 

 

☽

 

 

There are papers strewn all across the floor of Hyunggu's room as he rests his forehead against the table, wondering who came up with the concept of school and why their youth had to be wasted on someone's idea of torture. Hyojong's foot brushes against his leg and Hyunggu whines.

"You aren't allowed to take a break when I'm still working," Hyojong says when Hyunggu looks up, staring at the way Hyojong's face is twisted in concentration, glasses dangerously close to slipping off his nose, and bangs nearly falling into his eyes. He sighs and sits up.

"At least I'm working with you," Hyunggu concedes as Hyojong flashes him a quick grin.

"We can take a break after we finish an outline," Hyojong states.

And they do. When Hyunggu's mother interrupts with cold juice and snacks. They end up huddled over a computer screen, watching a music video, and chattering animatedly about how cool the dance was.

 

 

Later on, when they are delirious from one too many readings, they take turns imitating the dance moves they saw.

 

 

☽

 

 

Hyunggu can't recall when he started spending his summers at Hyojong's grandparents' place. Probably when he was much much younger and cried when he heard that his best friend left him for the countryside and the only way to console him was to allow him to go with Hyojong. ( It resulted in one too many gift baskets from a very embarrassed Mrs. Kang and boxes of fresh produce for Hyunggu to bring home from the kind and elderly couple. ) Either way, it always induced a state of serenity as if all his problems had dissipated. Entrance exams no longer mattered and he was ten again: free to do whatever he wanted.

So Hyunggu throws an arm around Hyojong and announces: "I'll race you to grandpa's" as he sprints off, hugging his tote tightly.

 

 

"Give me that," Hyojong growls as he reaches over and plucks the cold bottle of water out of Hyunggu's hand.

"Hey!" Hyunggu protests weakly as he watches the way Hyojong wraps his lips around edge of the bottle and chugs its contents.

"You suggested to race all the way from the bus stop," Hyojong argues after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You decided to take me up on it," Hyunggu replies with a grin.

"My point still stands."

( Hyojong gets him back eventually, two weeks later, when on a whim they decide to explore the closest city. Hyunggu purchases cotton candy at a stand and Hyojong rips off a chunk with his teeth and runs off, leading to a chase and a couple extra stolen bites.

"Revenge is best-served cold," Hyojong reasons, offering his bottle of water as an olive branch.

"You are just being petty," Hyunggu pants, using the water to rinse his fingers, but not after making sure he ingested ever little piece of cotton candy he could salvage. )

 

 

The first night they lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of nocturnal insects bustling about their own business. It always begins like this.

Then one of them says: "Do you remember when..."

 

 

_Hyojong's grandfather traps fireflies in jars and Hyunggu crouches down to inspect them. Hyojong taps twice on the glass before Hyunggu swats his hand away, exclaiming: "It disappeared!" only to see it light up again._

_"Fireflies flash in patterns to attract and impress his partner," Hyojong's grandfather explains._

_"Like a dance?" Hyojong asks, eyes wide as he looks up at his grandfather and then back down at the creature._

_"Sure. You can call it that." There's affection in his tone and his eyes disappear into crescents when_ Hyunggu _jumps and yells something about how it keeps blinking like its appearing and disappearing._  A magic act _, he insists._

_Much later that night, when both of them are sure that Hyojong's grandparents are asleep, Hyojong straps a flashlight to his hand, improvises a short little dance, and asks Hyunggu to join him. He does._

 

 

"Yeah. We should do that again."

"Traumatize fireflies?"

"No," one of them chuckles and bumps the other's arm lightly, "watch fireflies."

"Sure. At least it's not as boring as fishing."

"You grew up to be a dull person." and "Hey! You know I'm only speaking the truth."

 

 

_"Both of you are gaping like fish," Hyojong's grandmother chuckles as the kids applaud the number of fish his grandfather has managed to reel in._

_"I can't tell the difference," Hyojong's grandfather jokes, "maybe we should roast them for dinner." Which receives a chorus of_ Hey! _s._

_"Maybe we should," his grandmother agrees with a wise nod and a wink directed at the children._

_They laugh and run off when his grandfather reaches for them, attempting to squeeze them around the waist. Only to return obediently when Hyojong's grandmother calls for them, trying to instruct them about how to clean fish. Hyunggu covers both of their eyes when he sees red, peeking through his fingers — half disgusted, half intrigued. Hyojong swats his hand away to watch with both eyes open._

_But seeing acts of repitition can only be fascinating to children for so long. They run off. Pants hiked up above the shins, haphazardly folded, threatening to fall into the water as they wade into the stream. Someone splashes first and it ends up being a water fight. Their laughter makes its way to the elderly couple who smile at each other, pleased by the company._

_Small fishes swim between legs. It devolves into a competition to see who can grab one with bare hands. The fishes keep slipping away through fingers and they end up drenched from head to toe. Never reprimanded. Just given towels and a kind reminder to not catch a cold._

_Hyunggu does anyways and Hyojong spends the entire day indoors to keep him company._

 

 

"Remember how you were curled around me, holding me like a personal pillow," Hyojong's tone is light, teasing. Hyunggu flushes anyways.

"You had the core temperature of a volcano and I had a  _cold_."

"Sure. Sure. Hey, remember when..."

 

 

_It was Hyojong's birthday and both of them were stuffed full from Grandma Kim's cooking and the cake the elderly couple brought to celebrate. They only smiled when Hyojong held Hyunggu's hand as they blew out the candles together._

_"Let me show you something," Grandpa Kim says as he holds out a hand for Hyojong to take. Hyojong bounces as he follows after his grandfather, hand in hand._

_He hands each of them a sparkler and chuckles as their eyes widen in awe when he lights them up. "It's a fairy wand!" Hyunggu exclaims and twirls it a bit. They remember to behave before it evolves into a sparkler sword fight._

_By the time the last one fizzles out, Hyojong points to the sky and states_ look _at the night sky sprinkled with stars. The children look up with wide smiles._

_"You kids spend too much time in the city," Grandpa Kim begins._

_"You should come visit more often," Grandma Kim finishes._

_The kids nod in agreement._

 

 

"Man, that was forever ago."

"But we kept coming back ever since like some sort of personalized summer camp." They fall silent for a moment before Hyunggu starts up again. "You know, I always felt bad. Like I was impeding upon some grandparent-grandchild bonding time."

"Nah you weren't. The more the merrier. Besides, I'm sure they enjoyed the company."

"I hope so."

Hyojong waits until he hears the evened pace of Hyunggu's breathing, the one that indicates he is fast asleep, before saying, "because I sure did."

 

 

☽

 

 

The summer is hotter than Hyunggu remembers and he doesn't think it has anything to do with the air conditioner that broke down earlier today, rumbling out it's last breath before grinding to a halt. Grandmother Kim only sighed gently before saying, "its done its service," and patted it twice. And so the grandparents decided to load up their truck and head to the nearest town for a solution.

The summer has become unbearable. The air conditioner has broken down, the fan is just pushing around warm air, hair is plastered to foreheads and it is ultimately unattractive but neither of them seems to care. The wind chime barely moves. There are cicadas rubbing their wings together. Earlier they dipped their toes into the cool stream and came up with an improvised piece that left them soaking wet and then they ran towards the local store for ice cream. There's a stain by the corner of the lips, someone refrains from leaning in.

It's wiped off by the back of the hand — sticky. The memory stirs something in Hyunggu as he turns his head to stare at Hyojung whose eyes are closed, probably singing a tune in his head and Hyunggu wishes he would share.

Hyunggu sits up, stares. Hyojong's eyes flutter open. The corner of his lips curl into a smile and Hyunggu bends down and kisses Hyojong. Hyojong makes a sound like the air is creaking out of his lungs and his soul is being dusted off after years of neglect. He's sticky and damp and his tank top is hanging loose with the sleeves cut down the hem and his hair still matted to his face. He doesn't care. He reaches up, palm brushing against the nape of Hyunggu's neck, threads his fingers into Hyunggu's hair, and pulls him closer.

 

 

☽

 

 

"Since when?"

 _Since forever_ , Hyunggu is tempted to say but Hyojong is looking at him with those eyes, expectant, and Hyunggu shrinks into himself from embarrassment. He changes the topic, even though he refuses to pull his fingers away from where they rest in Hyojong's hold. "Sometimes I feel like I've known you for a lifetime."

"Well," Hyojong laughs, "we've known each other since we were five."

"No, I mean before that. Like I've known you a lifetime ago. In a previous life." Hyunggu shakes his head. "Forget it, it's silly."

"No. No it's not," Hyojong insists. "Look at me," which prompts Hyunggu to look, "my entire existence has been relegated to  _myth_ and  _folklore_ by humans and yet here I am."

"It's different."

"I don't think so. Remember when I explained to you about imprinting when I asked?" Hyunggu nods. "They don't say it is for  _life_. They say it is for an  _eternity_. I think it implies that there are _lives_ we live through."

There's an argument on the tip of Hyunggu's tongue but he swallows it down and changes the topic again: "The full moon is coming up. Do you think you'll transition again?"

Hyojong worries at his lip. "Probably."

 

 

☽ Two Years Ago ☾

 

 

Hyojong misses class for the first time since Hyunggu has known him.

Hyunggu waited for him at the usual spot, the place they have always met up to walk to school together, but Hyojong never came. Instead, he received a text saying:  _don't wait for me_. So Hyunggu doesn't.

And then Hyojong doesn't show up five minutes before the bell rings. Or during roll call. Or the thirty minutes after the first class begins. Hyunggu knows that something is awfully wrong.

When he asks the homeroom teacher, all he gets is a "he's sick."

"But Hyojong doesn't get sick," Hyunggu protests, thinking of all the times he's fallen ill and Hyojong has stayed by his side, had curled up next to him, had shared the same drink and still hadn't caught the cold or whatever Hyunggu was plagued with.

The teacher makes a face. "Everyone gets sick." But Hyunggu knows,  _knows_ Hyojong and Hyojong doesn't get sick.

 

 

When he visits Hyojong after school that day, he's stopped at the door by Hyojong's mother.

"I heard he got sick, so I came," Hyunggu says as he lifts the bag of fresh fruit and puts on a convincing smile.

Hyojong's mother looks worried. "I'm afraid I can't let you visit him."

"But he doesn't get sick," Hyunggu tries, only to be met by a thin-lipped smile, very forced, very unlike Mrs. Kim. He decides to change the topic: "I thought it was just a cold?"

She shakes her head, glancing back nervously, "I'm afraid it is far more contagious than that."

Hyunggu reads her expression and decides to leave it at that.

 

 

A week later, Hyojong returns. Hyunggu asks him if he's okay, Hyojong nods, and then Hyunggu passes him the notes from the classes he's missed.

 

 

☽ One Year Ago ☾

 

 

It happens again. Hyojong apparently falls ill again and returns in a week.

Hyunggu reaches over and puts his hand over Hyojong's. "You can talk to me, you know?"

Hyojong nods but doesn't meet his gaze.

 

 

☽ Five Moons Ago ☾

 

 

And then again. Hyunggu figures that something is up. Even with the seasonal flu, it never is as predictable as this and no one else in his class is sick.

On the third day of Hyojong's absence, he pays his friend another visit and this time he doesn't let Mrs. Kim turn him away. "Please, let me see him. Maybe I can help."

"I doubt it," and he can hear the hints of steel she's introducing to her voice. So he tries again, recalling the way she looked the first time: nervous and worried.

"Isn't he lonely in there? Isn't he scared? Wouldn't it be better if someone was there with him — someone he knows?" he pleads, going off on the small lead.

"Yes but—"

"I've known him since I was _five_. I know him. He won't—"

"Alright," she relents with a sigh, "Come on in."

 

 

Hyunggu didn't know what to expect but he wasn't expecting this: Hyojong was curled up in a fetal position in his bed. Face flushed, feverish, and jerked away when Hyunggu placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

 

So Hyunggu did the only thing he knew how to: console Hyojong.

 

 

Hyunggu climbs into Hyojong's bed and runs what is hopefully a soothing hand over his back again and again. Until he loosens up. Until he turns around and faces Hyunggu. Until he chooses to rest his head where his hair tickles at Hyunggu's cheek and breath tickles at Hyunggu's neck.

And Hyojong does. In the same way they used to find themselves whenever Hyunggu was sick and feverish and just wanted to be held.

Hyunggu gives Hyojong a once over and  _oh_. The short conversation he had with Hyojong's mother at the door suddenly makes a bit more sense.

( "How much do you know about werewolves?"

"Not much. Why?"

"Never mind. It's probably better he explain it himself." )

"Can I help?" Hyunggu tries, tone gentle as he says it into Hyojong's hair.

Hyojong falls silent. "If you want," comes out soft, hesitant. Hyunggu didn't think that Hyojong could turn a shade redder than this feverish state but he did.

"It'll be okay," Hyunggu voices, trying to be confident, trying to be convincing, trying to tell himself that this is normal. What kind of friend just stands there when his best friend suffers? "Just," he tries to slow the pace of his own heart, keep his own nervous energy from being detectable, "hold me like you used to. When we were young and I was sick."

So Hyojong does: chin tucked over Hyunggu's shoulder, palms flat against Hyunggu's spine, and everything feels absolutely normal despite how hard Hyojong's heart is thudding against his ribs. He blames it on what must be adrenaline masquerading as courage when he lazily kisses the columns of Hyunggu's throat and smothers all the sounds he makes into Hyunggu's skin.

 

 

☽ Some Time a Little After That ☾

 

 

"Your mother told me to ask you about werewolves," Hyunggu begins as Hyojong makes a face.

"How much do you know?"

“Not much,” Hyunggu confesses, “Just the stuff from pop culture.”

There's a long period of silence before Hyunggu picks up again. "So, when you shift... is it more Harry Potter or Twilight?"

Hyojong grimaces. "Twilight but not horse sized."

"How often?"

"Every full moon."

"Isn't that awful?" worry seeps into his tone.

Hyojong shrugs. "Not really. I have it better than most people. I still remember who I am. Others..." he sighs, sympathetic, "They succumb to instinct."

"Bitten?"

"Born. There’s a latency period. It manifests in adolescence. Mine was a little late.” Hyojong turns over to look at Hyunggu, trying to decipher his expression.

"I see," Hyunggu says, thoughtful.

"You're taking this rather well," Hyojong notes. "Shouldn't you be freaking out?"

Hyunggu shrugs and then looks Hyojong in the eye. "Just because you turn out to be a mystical creature doesn't make you any different. You are still my best friend."

Hyojong chuckles and turns back to face the ceiling.

"Were you worried?" Hyunggu asks, gentle, prodding.

"A little. Do you have other questions?"

“So what happens during this period?” Hyunggu asks, referencing to the past few days.

“Increased appetite.”

“Silver bullets?” Hyunggu questions and Hyojong laughs.

“Myth.”

“Wolfsbane?”

“Deadly.”

Hyunggu inches closer to Hyojong allowing his fingers to brush against the inside of Hyojong's palm.

“Vampire venom?”

“That’s just a neutralizer. Part narcotic maybe? I’ve never been bitten,” Hyojong voices, shifting and turning around so that he ends up resting his cheek against Hyunggu’s chest. Somewhere in the back of his brain reasons that it is more comfortable this way. “But vampire blood is toxic. Or so I’ve heard.”

Hyunggu hums, thoughtful. "Can I see it? Your other form I mean."

Hyojong stiffens and then relaxes. _Maybe_ is on the tip of his tongue but instead he teases: "don't run away in fear." Grin michevious.

 

 

☽ End Flashback ☾

 

 

At this point, it becomes routine. Hyojong is still a ball of nerves whenever the moon threatens to rise. Hyunggu would be too if his skin shifted and pulled as bones morph into something both familiar and strange at the same time. To be overwhelmed by instinct and then remember what you are, what you _were_. Hyunggu squeezes Hyojong's hand to reassure him and makes an excuse to the elderly couple as the two of them retire early into their rooms. 

It used to be worse: Hyojong's fists would be clenched tightly, forming balls in his hands, using Hyunggu's shirt. He would whimper softly and all Hyunggu could do was run a hand through Hyojong's hair and hope it soothed him until instinct took over and Hyojong backed away, stepped outside, and shifted.

It's better now so Hyunggu waits.

There are sounds of a creature pawing at the door and Hyunggu smiles, opening the door to let the wolf inside. If not for the larger frame and longer snout, Hyunggu could pretend it to be a large dog, the way he bounds inside and comes to him. The wolf circles Hyunggu twice, bumps his nose against Hyunggu's palm, and settles next to him, resting his jaw on Hyunggu's lap. Hyunggu threads his fingers through Hyojong's fur, trying to make sense of the mess but then gives up and drapes himself over the creature. Slowly being lulled to sleep by his warmth.

 

 

☽ And Five Moons Later ☾

 

 

"The pack," Hyojong begins as he wraps his arms around Hyunggu, resting his chin atop of Hyunggu's crown, "is called Kintsugi. Do you even know what that means?" Hyunggu shakes his head and Hyojong continues, "Some Japanese term used in pottery to mend broken things by melding them with gold. Something about accepting breakage and repair as history. Basically, a pack that welcomes and accepts all." Despite Hyojong's words, it sounds as if he's impressed, taken by the philosophy behind the creation of the pack. "And, more importantly," he notes, "is that the pack is named by the second in command who happens to be an omega." Pauses before adding: "and the alpha's mate."

Hyunggu looks up when Hyojong walks away for a glass of water and waits for him to return before asking: "You mean the pack your mother recommended?" Hyojong nods. "Did you like them?" Hyojong sits down next to him. "Could you see yourself as a part of them?"

"You sound like my mother." A comment that receives a well earned shove in the arm. "I don't know yet. Isn't it too early to tell?" but Hyunggu has known Hyojong since he was five and knows what it means when Hyojong talks so animatedly. However, he decides to swallow down the  _not from the way you're smiling._

"I suppose," Hyunggu allows. "But aren't you an alpha? Aren't alphas supposed to start their own pack or something?"

"But everyone has to start somewhere right? That's why mentors exist."

"And?" Hyunggu prompts when Hyojong settles down and rests his head on Hyunggu's lap, staring down at the other male.

"They aren't half bad."

Hyunggu smiles and says: "maybe you can give them a shot." Wondering what this entails for him, for _them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell this is rated M for **massive disappointment** instead of E for **extremely satisfying**. There's always a time for firsts and I'm still embarrassed by this BUT IT WAS REQUIRED FOR PLOT and most of you probably wouldn't get why I'm here freaking out because it is only there if you squint.
> 
> Also, in this verse, you can only turn into a vampire by imbibing vampire blood.


	3. The Homing Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two major discoveries are made: Hyojong finds a pack & Hyunggu pieces together their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mess. I'm a mess. Basically this chapter begins where the Prologue (Chapter 1) leaves off. If you are confused about ages: Hyojong joins the pack around 17 and they are currently 19 or so.

There's a wolf with the fur the color of charcoal and eyes of a demon staring down at him. Hyojong's hands are outstretched to indicate he is of no harm, heart pounding, breath short as he pants like he's been running or chased. It's probably the latter. The wolf isn't one he recognizes from his pack. It bares its fangs and advances slowly.

"I know you're in there." His voice doesn't sound quite right but Hyojong ignores it. "It's me. Please—"

Hyojong wakes up in cold sweat, unable to forget those red, red eyes and the snarl.

 

 

His paws dig into soft ground, ears picking up even the smallest rustle, and the crashing emotions to hunt, eat, eat, _eat_. His lips curl, peeling back, revealing his teeth. There's a man backed against a tree, fear overriding the pain of bark digging into his back. Hyunggu advances with a snarl.

The man raises his hand. It only offends Hyunggu and infuriates him more because  _I'm not a dog_.

"Please—"

But he doesn't let the man finish.

 

 

Hyunggu wakes up with adrenaline in his system and blinks twice in the dark before his eyes adjust and catch a glimpse of the male beside him. "Couldn't sleep?"

Hyojong nods and explains, "nightmares," thumb rubbing the part of the arm where the creature grazed him.

"It's just a bad dream," but even Hyunggu doesn't sound convinced when he tugs at Hyojong's wrist to pull him down. "Sleep," he commands, wrapping his arms around Hyojong, fitting himself against the other's spine, burrowing his nose close enough to smell the last traces of Hyojong's shampoo.

"Okay," Hyojong says but he's still awake when the nightmares begin.

 

 

☾

 

 

It is a full moon today. The pool of silver creeps its way towards the man and it feels like skin is peeling, bones melting. By the time the moonlight has embraced the figure in the shadows, he is no longer a man but a beast on all fours.

And then, he runs.

 

 

There's another man in the shadows, witnessing the transformation. Silently, he walks to where the beast had been. He remains a man under the silver light and picks up the discarded robes, holding them close to his chest and waits.

 

 

By the time he comes to, his fingers are coated in blood and his mouth tastes metallic. All he can recall are short snippets of leaves, the forest, a piercing scream, and a smear of red. He stares at his hands, voice quavering. "What have I done?"

His friend stands in the shadows, clutching his robes as he walks towards the man on his knees. "Don't," he warns, voice gentle. The first man detects sorrow. "Don't do this to yourself. It wasn't you. It's not your fault." The friend approaches and places a hand on the man's shoulder. The man flinches before he deflates under the touch, sagging until his temple leans against his friend's knee.

"What have I done?" he repeats like a mantra.

 

 

Hyunggu wakes. Pillow damp. He ends up staring at his hands and sees claws instead. Claws stained vermillion. He wonders who's dream it is and is this what Hyojong fears the most?

 

 

☾

 

 

Hyunggu wakes up in the morning with Hyojong curled around him like a protective cage. He's awake and smiles when Hyunggu catches him staring.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Hyojong shrugs, "it was more interesting watching you sleep." He doesn't talk about the part where Hyunggu cried and jerked so violently Hyojong had to hold him still.

Hyunggu inches closer, pressing his forehead against Hyojong's sternum. "What did you dream about last night?" asking for a distraction and Hyojong gives it to him.

"Of a wolf I've never seen before with fur of charcoal and eyes of rubies. But I know him, somehow. That was the first time I woke," his voice is light, soothing as he continues his story. "And then, again, the same wolf except this time he morphed into a man. I knew he would. I waited for him."

"It's just a dream," Hyunggu says, sounding like a desperate attempt to convince himself.

"Yeah. It is." Hyojong sounds unconvinced.

 

 

"Hey, Mom," Hyojong begins and then clears his throat, wondering how to go about tackling this question. "Did I ever harm someone during one of my transformations? Like during a blue moon or one even I can't resist the pull of?"

"No," she makes a face. "I don't believe so. Why do you ask?" A hand on her hip, suddenly curious.

Hyojong swallows. "Nothing," thinking of the way the creature cornered him and lashed out: claws digging into skin, ripping across flesh, leaving a raw wound burning in its wake. "I was just curious."

His mother walks towards him and tousles his hair. "I would have stopped you if you came close."

 

 

☾

 

 

Hyojong wakes up in a stranger's skin. A stranger that has surrounded himself with seemingly anything related to the lore of werewolves . Everything strewn across in what seems like a basement. A few papers dangerously close to an open fire where he seems to be brewing something. Probably medicine.

"No," he mutters and crosses something off the parchment under his fingertips, "not right." Holds his head in his hands and groans, despairing. "Nothing details how to reverse this condition." His voice is on the verge of cracking, so engrossed that he didn't hear the footsteps of the approaching figure.

"There's no cure. I've said it before," the man says. The man with hair as black as night, piercing eyes, and shoulders that seem to bear the weight of the world. "Don't waste your time."

"It's  _my_ time. I get to decide on how to use it," the stranger snaps. "I'll find it. I have to."

The man smiles a sad smile. The type a dead man has when he hears the date of his sentence. The sash around his waist is red and it matches the sole ribbon hidden in his hair, barely keeping his bangs from falling into his face.

"I will," the stranger repeats when he holds the man's hand and presses the back of the hand against his cheek.

 

 

Hyunggu wakes up in a stranger's skin. A stranger that stumbles as he walks. A stranger drenched in the stupor of drunkedness. A stranger looking for ways to forget but fails when he walks right into a pool of silver casted by an almost round moon. He bumps past another man who turns around and glares. A man who judges based on appearances. Nothing like the man he knows (and loves): the man clad in silk, the man wasting his time trying to decipher illegible ink, the man sitting in a cramped room where the sunlight barely reaches, a man who dries his tears using his stupidly expensive silk robes. The man who he bumped into utters a curse word and the stranger blames everything on bad judgement when he grabs the man by the collar of his robes and pulls him close.

"What are you going to do about it?" the man taunts, face contorted. Ugly despite the chain of jade beads that designate his class.

So the stranger sinks his teeth into the man's skin, tastes blood, and shifts. There's a scream and a rush of adrenaline. The other creature, the one not black as charcoal, cowers in the corner of the alley, bewildered. The first creature howls into the night sky before he bounds away; it would sound like a laughter if he had a human mouth.

By the time he comes to, he's shivering and naked beside a shed that stores his extra garments.

Then he remembers.

"No," he echoes but no one is around to listen.

  

 

☾

 

 

"What do you think it means?" Hyojong asks, over breakfast, after telling Hyojong his dreams and Hyojong had filled Hyunggu in on his.

"I don't know."

"Dreams aren't supposed to continue like this. I mean they sometimes do but not like this you know?"  _Especially how they coincide_ but Hyunggu chooses not to voice that.

Hyojong nods. They fall silent.

"Maybe a break might help?" Hyojong offers.

"What are you suggesting?"

"It's been forever since we visited Grandma and Grandpa. I think they miss us." Hyojong grins cheekily.

"I miss them too, you know?"

"I'll give them a call tonight." And even Hyunggu starts to smile at that.

 

 

Grandma Kim and Grandpa Kim are as welcoming as Hyunggu remembers. He has seconds during lunch and ends up dangerously close to slipping into a food coma in their living room. Hyojong prods him with his foot twice before sitting down next to Hyunggu, hand reaching over to rub his belly with a teasing grin. "How many months?"

Hyojong rolls his eyes and shoves Hyojong. Ignoring how the other is clearly plotting something.

"Seeing as how tied down you are," Hyojong begins and pats Hyunggu's stomach twice, "I'll race you to the water."

And then he has the gall to screech as he takes off towards the lake. Grandma Kim shakes her head affectionately when she watches Hyunggu clambering to his feet and sprinting off after Hyojong.

 

 

Hyunggu sprays Hyojong in the face with water, clothes discarded in a pile on top of Hyojong's as he swims away from retaliation. Hyojong disappears, diving under the water to sneak up on Hyunggu, only to yank on Hyunggu's ankle, dragging him down until he eats a mouthful of water.

It feels like they are nine again. Or ten, or thirteen, or fifteen. Or any one of those years they spent countless summer days just drifting on the lake to cool off, occasionally playing games to waste time until Grandpa Kim came looking for them, asking them to come home for dinner time.

Hyunggu drags himself onto a drifting log to escape Hyojong only to see Hyojong haul himself onto the same piece of wood. He smiles, all cat like, before he leans in and catches Hyunggu's lips with his own.

Hyunggu thinks of the summer they raced each other to the convenience store after a swim, clothes dripping wet and clinging to their frames, the loser forced to pay for ice cream. Hyunggu thinks of the way Hyojong's Adam's apple bobbed, pink tongue slipping out to lap at the ice cream that had managed to melt before he could get to it, at the way his lashes fluttered in the hot breeze. That summer, Hyunggu dreamed of slipping his fingers into Hyojong's hand and holding it. Later that day, he did.

Hyunggu thinks of the day of their graduation, after a dizzying line up of being dragged into being part of random pictures. A face in a crowd next to a classmate he barely knew or one he hadn't shared a class with in two years. Hyunggu thinks of how Hyojong dragged him away to a quiet staircase as people tried to find them, shouting their names down the hall, asking their closer friends because they just wanted lasting memories. Hyunggu thinks of the way Hyojong leaned close, cheek almost touching his, holding out a polaroid to create another memory belonging only to themselves.

Hyunggu thinks of the period after Hyojong really gives Kintsugi a try, that day he stumbles into Hyunggu's room face flushed and giddy after Hyunggu sat at home, alone, for hours. Hyojong comes to him and talks and talks and starts rambling off names Hyunggu can barely catch and doesn't even bother to try to remember. The day Hyunggu worried he was losing Hyojong because a sense of community — a sense of belonging — is more compelling than a sole childhood friend. But then Hyojong says _I wish you were there_ and the knot in Hyunggu's chest loosens.

Hyunggu thinks too much so he just parts his lips and allows Hyojong to slip his tongue in.

 

 

That night, Hyojong offers to help take Hyunggu's mind off recent dreams. Hyunggu accepts.

The place just under Hyunggu's ear sees frequent affection, the heat of Hyojong's breath and the scrape of his mouth. The pattern he draws to Hyunggu's heart and the sound that Hyojong makes when it thuds, excitedly against his lips.

Hyunggu forgets in those moments. The only thing he remembers is Hyojong's name.

But when sleep creeps onto them, as it always does, nothing stops the dreams from coming.

 

 

☾

 

 

There's a mob with torches and one or more of them actually have pitchforks. Hyojong would laugh but the body he's in is stricken with fear and and desperately clambering away to try to find someone. To try to warn them before it is too late.

 

 

The friend meets the creature and beckons it to come over. "Hurry!" And then rolls his eyes when the creature is all instinct: hesitant. "You know me. I'm your friend."

This time, when he beckons, the creature follows. "You'll be safe in here till dawn."

 

 

By the time the creature wakes, he's back in his man form with some robes (stupidly expensive silk) draped over him. "Where am I?" he questions, voice gruff as he kicks the friend in the shin who groggily complains  _ow_ while rubbing his eyes.

"Somewhere safe with me," the friend replies with a cheeky grin but it doesn't go to his eyes.

"Why were they..."

"It wasn't you. Someone witnessed a brown wolf that tore a man's jugular," the friend starts explaining only to be interrupted by the man.

"That was me."

"How? I know what you look like. It's not—"

The man closes his eyes. "It's my fault."

The friend blinks and tries to keep his voice steady when he continues: "And then people started talking about sightings of a creature. Farmer Jung complained about finding all his chickens gone and only blood and feathers left in its wake. I know that part's probably you. You can't take the blame of every thing bad that happens to this town!" A protest but he quiets when the man opens one eye to glare. "So they wanted to form a party and hunt the creature down."

The man sighs.

"I can help! I can sedate your other form. Stay with it all night and keep it from harming anyone else. Keep you safe. Please just—"

"But we can't hide forever," The man states.  _We can move_ dies on the friend's lips when the man says: "and I need to pay for my sins."

"It wasn't  _you_. It's not your fault," the friend insists, gently laying his hand on top of the other's.

The man jerks away and laughs, harsh, as he throws back his head. "I'm glad one of us thinks that way."

 

 

The man had always expected to atone for his own sins, not for his friend to take his place. But one of the villagers became suspicious of how he never turned up for any of the huntings and trailed him, finding the basement still filled with a library's worth of knowledge on mystical creatures and herbs he had never seen. So he turned the friend in and the friend said nothing but smiled that smile of his. By the time the man found out, it was already too late. He was served poison in the cell and was dying the slow death the entire village thought the creature deserved.

All the man could think of was  _it should have been me_. Not caring for the guards or the villagers who attacked when he made his way to where his friend was imprisoned. Most of them are now corpses — half torn into, limbs missing, some only teetering on the edge of death but closer than his dear friend — leaving a trail behind him, prostrated at his feet.

The man cradles his best friend: a hand securing his head, thighs supporting the torso, the free hand clutching his friend's and watches the weak rise and fall of his dear one's chest. "Why?" he asks, sorrow creeping into his voice but the friend only smiles. The man leans down and rests his forehead against his friend's praying for some sort of miracle or a cure. Then he remembers how his kind doesn't fall ill, how he heals almost immediately after injury, how he's never been sick once since being forcibly turned. So he breaks his friend's flawless, white skin with his teeth and forces him to change.

The creature nudges gently at the other one's ribs, coaxing him to remember what it feels like to be human, to have opposable thumbs, to remember who he is.

And when his friend shifts back, he looks healthier with rosy cheeks, but he doesn't seem to celebrate. "I couldn't let them get to you. I don't care what happens to me but I can't let them get to you," he explains, smiling once more.

"But I care," the man says as he presses his forehead against the other's again and breathes, allowing his emotions to crash over him, consume him alive. It feels like drowning, like you are struggling for breath, but you'd rather just sink than stop listening to the siren singing. It feels like dying, like your heart folding upon itself and trying to disappear, and you can't imagine anything more painful. It feels like being branded but you don't mind because it is your lover's name etched into your soul for eternity. It is you saving a part of yourself for them for the rest of time.

The friend breathes. "Wow. Did you feel that?" Hand clutching the part of the robe above the man's heart. There's a nod. And then a violent cough followed by the friend vomiting his guts out.

"Wolfsbane?" he demands, voice tight, fists clenched as he tries to soothe his friend by stroking his back. His friend only smiles and nods. "Why didn't you tell me? You know about my kind and aconite!"

"Because," his friend says, tone light as he cups the man's face in his hands, "you'll find a way to save me. And I would hate it if you asked the pale Immortals to change me. What would I do with an eternity without you?"

"But how can I live without you?" the man's voice cracks when he sees eyes looking to the distance.

"You now hold part of my soul. So in the next life and the life after that, we will find each other again." The friend curls his lips into a smile once last time and squeezes the man's hand. "Wait for me."

"Always," the man promises, brushing his lips against the back of his beloved's hand. 

 

 

☾

 

 

"Did you feel that?" Hyojong gasps, still trying to recover from the numbness that weighed his body down and the feeling of a heart slowing to a stop.

"Yeah," Hyunggu's voice breaks: the image of the friend passing away in his arms still too vivid, still too raw.

"Don't you see? We—" Hyojong quiets when he sees how Hyunggu's eyes glisten from tears. "Remember when I brought up imprinting?" Hyunggu nods. "I never told you how I tried to do it once, on you. But it didn't work. And it didn't work because I've already given part of my soul to you a life time ago." There's a sort of happiness that seeps into his tone, calming Hyunggu.

"What did you say about imprinting? Not only for this life but for all of eternity?" Hyojong nods and then smiles when Hyunggu links their hands together. Hyunggu thinks about how Hyojong has guarded him a lifetime ago and still guards him now. He thinks about sacrifice and then the future. "Then stay with me," he says, "for this life and the next and the one after that."

"Always," Hyojong echoes.

 

 

☽ The Epilogue ☾

 

 

 "Remember how I was given this golden necklace?" Hyojong taps at the circle sitting at the base of his throat. "Because the pack leader wanted to give out gold trinkets to solidify the  _Kintsugi_ concept as well as use it for an indication of membership — that the doors will always be open even to those who have left. That this will always be your pack if you choose it to be?" Hyunggu nods, glancing at the small circle he always thought to be reminiscent of a dog tag.

"Well," Hyojong starts and squirms a little under the gaze, "I got you something. Close your eyes."

Hyunggu does as he's told, barely flinching when there's something cool brushing against his skin and Hyojong's fingers accidentally bumping against the nape of Hyunggu's neck. When he opens his eyes, he sees a small crescent moon made out of polished seashell, hanging on a silver chain. Hyunggu smiles and jokingly says, "the moon to your sun?" Not expecting Hyojong to blush. But he does and something swells in Hyojong's chest so he leans forward to press his lips against Hyojong's cheek like he's done countless times before.

**Author's Note:**

> The details on imprinting can be found [here](http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1smjrd8) (1-5). Universe and imprinting concepts should be credited to [dusktodawn](http://dusktodawnkrp.tumblr.com/). Sadly the pages detailing the specific lore can no longer be found so I work mostly off of memory.
> 
> Their past life was borrowed from Teen Wolf. Past life character designs based of Georim.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos much appreciated!


End file.
